


Until Tomorrow

by Princess of Geeks (Princess)



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Episode Related, First Time, Icon, M/M, Romance, Season 8, Shower Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-15
Updated: 2010-03-15
Packaged: 2017-10-08 00:30:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/70854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Princess/pseuds/Princess%20of%20Geeks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Episode tag to "Icon." Remember how haggard Jack looks when he snaps at Sam, "Find him!" This fic explains why.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Slashfairy and Serai for help with Spanish.

Daniel stepped through the gate alone. Sam and Teal'c and the other teams were staying behind to help Kane secure the bunker, and begin the arduous process of trying to call off a global war now that the reason for the conflict had been excised. One careful bullet, creating one martyred fanatic, dying in the ruins of his own crusade, and everything changed.

Daniel put aside thoughts of Hitler and Lenin and Mao and raised his eyebrows, because even as the swirling cold receded and he found himself banging down the familiar ramp, there was Jack coming up to meet him.

Jack wasn't waiting for him at the ramp's foot, palm to wrist behind his back in his own twist on parade-rest. He wasn't dashing in for a moment in the gate room, abstracted, to greet his old team and then rush off again to authorize other missions or deal with angry off-worlders or desperate Tok'ra or overwhelmed Jaffa or urgent paperwork. He was deliberately, eagerly, pacing up the ramp toward his prodigal, apparently having waited barely long enough for the event horizon to safely flatten before heading up to the gate.

Daniel stopped, and Jack came right up to him, grabbed him and hugged him, then held him away, pushing at his shoulders, strong hard grip, and took a good look at him and hugged him again. Daniel tried not to gasp, and had the presence of mind to hug back. This was ... different. Hell, this was one big surprise. Very big. Warmth, and weight, and the press of corded arms, and the scent of heavily starched cotton, and a star poking him in the cheek.

"Nice jacket," Jack said. "Trendy."

Then Jack turned him, slung an arm around his shoulders and walked him down the ramp and put him in the hands of the EMTs.

Jack didn't joke, didn't bitch, didn't say anything substantive at all until Daniel's exam was done, and, following a request conveyed by one of the base security guys, he ambled on up to Jack's office. The general wanted to see him, and so he reported to Jack's office before he'd even looked in on his own to see if someone had been feeding the fish and if he had a pile of mail. He really didn't want to see his email in-box, or face the flood of memos requesting help on untranslatable emergencies which had no doubt been set aside for him, just in case of his return, over these long weeks.

He knocked once on the doorframe and stepped in. He sank into Jack's guest chair, wincing a little and readjusting his butt so as not to press on the spot that had just been punched with the usual batch of antibiotics and boosters.

Jack got up and closed the door and sat down again, leaning his elbows on the desk and folding his hands. He whuffed out a breath. Daniel cocked his head and stared. Jack looked worn, tired, like he hadn't been getting enough sleep. He had a fresh haircut and he was clean shaven and neat, like always, but he looked haggard, and unaware of his haggard-ness. Daniel frowned.

"We'll debrief when Carter and Teal'c get back tonight, but is there anything you want to say that can't go on the record?"

Daniel nodded. So that was it. Jack was remembering Edora, and his own hundred days adrift. Daniel remembered, too, and in the long pause, he figured Jack could hear him thinking. But this was easy -- the part that was about Daniel, at least. No conflict there.

"There's actually nothing to leave out."

Jack looked askance. "I've left out plenty, in my time."

"I know. And if there were something that was your business to know, I'd tell you."

Jack recoiled. Probably no one but Daniel could have read it, but it was there in a tiny sag of his shoulders, in the way his gaze flicked to the desk and back up. He carefully folded his fingers together. Daniel realized Jack thought he had secrets that he was going to refuse to share, and that that assumption somehow hurt Jack. Daniel felt, all of a sudden, the oppressive weight of the time that had passed, the uncertainty and suppressed fear that Jack must have carried on his behalf. He also felt, in a flash, the sadness over the way a friendship can fray with time and disuse. His friendship with Jack since his return from ascension was like a finely balanced tool, honed to a sharp edge. Not fragile, but easy to blunt, easy to damage. He'd lost his touch with Jack during this unintended absence. There was a lot to relearn.

He leaned forward and put a hand flat on the desk.

"Don't misunderstand me; even if it weren't any of your business I'd still tell you. But there's nothing to tell."

Jack's face softened. Again; probably no one but Daniel (and probably Sergeant Harriman) would have even seen it.

Jack paused, and said, "Good job out there."

"Thank you," Daniel said.

***

Time lurched along. Sam and Teal'c came back. The other teams came back. The Caledonians backed down. Daniel led a two-week-long humanitarian mission with doctors and emergency relief personnel. They set up a schedule for medical aid, but, as it turned out, the rebel regime had hidden vast stockpiles of food, so that was one less thing. Communication systems were rebuilt. Provisional governments were formed. Daniel felt that for once, he had made an offworld promise that he would not end up losing sleep over. He didn't see Leta Kane again. She avoided him on the follow-up trip, and for his part, he let that ride and did not ask to see her.

The day Daniel got back, Jack took some leave. Daniel was only a little surprised. Sam had obliquely told him just how upset the general had been while he was gone. Daniel knit his brow, but didn't ask her any questions, and with a pregnant look, she let it go. He was tired, and drained, and had forgotten what Earth looked like, so he also asked for, and got, some leave. Jack wasn't answering his home phone, nor his cell.

The first evening of his downtime, Daniel was sitting at his computer, skimming some back issues of _Journal of Applied Linguistics_ over pizza, when his email pinged. It was rare that an e-mail would be flagged urgent when he was at home; hell, it was rare that it happened at the mountain, because if it was really that urgent the red phone on his wall would ring, or a siren would go off, so it struck him as exceedingly odd. He closed the window on the journal and opened the email.

The software chewed on it for a second in the blurry way that he had come to associate with encryption. Stranger and stranger. The message blinked to life. It was ten Asgard runes. Daniel did a double take. It was a phone number.

He stared at it, divided it into three, three, and four, so that he could memorize it, and deleted the message. He sat there for a minute. Then he slowly got up, found his shoes, found his keys, and drove down to the Safeway at the corner and stood outside in the chilly wind at one of the few remaining payphones in the Springs. He put in some coins and dialed. It was Jack, of course, who answered.

"Hey."

"Hey?" Daniel felt the shock of surprise from his Achilles tendons to his ass. He didn't know what to do with this. This was way too weird. NID? Some back channel attack by Kinsey's former minions? What?

"Yeah, it's me." Jack was all business. "If you'll play along, there's a reservation for you on a flight to Cancun tomorrow morning. American three-eleven, departing ten-twenty-one from DIA."

"Uh, is everything okay?" Why did Jack need him out of the country, and right away? What was wrong?

"So far... What do you say?"

"Uh, _hasta manana?" _

"Muy bueno." Daniel could hear the smile in his voice.

Jack broke the connection. Daniel listened to the artificial voice telling him how much more money to put in the phone, and he obeyed, not really paying attention. What was Jack up to? From his tone, this was not an emergency. But you couldn't read too much into that, because Jack could laugh about anything, anywhere. Hope, self-derision, second-guessing and worry created a revolving cascade of thoughts in Daniel's head as he slowly wandered back to his car and drove home. He had to stick to what he knew. Jack wasn't worried, and Jack was sending him to Mexico. Go with that.

Therefore, Daniel did not pack anything dangerous or even suspicious. He did take his cell and an empty new journal, and he packed like a carefree tourist. Everything he needed fit in a small carry-on that he wouldn't have to check. This was Jack's op. Or not. The thrill of anticipation crawling up and down his calves and thighs wouldn't go away, though. He didn't sleep much overnight. He slept on the plane.

***

Jack was waiting for him behind the security barrier in the airport lobby, standing still this time, his arms folded, his eyes invisible behind dark sunglasses. He was wearing one of those touristy, embroidered, all-white Mexican cotton shirts, and his knees looked knobby and vulnerable. His smile was a half-smile, quirked and reluctant, like he really didn't mean to let it show.

He took Daniel's bag out of his hand and led him through the crowded, bland airport to a rental car. Daniel pulled off his dark lenses and squinted up at the sun. It was late afternoon here, and hot, the air a heavy rich press on his face and in his lungs. He loved the tropics. He missed the tropics with a longing that even Honduras had not scratched or dented. Why did he not spend more time in the tropics, and in the desert? He looked around at the concrete and the palm trees and the white sky. He could smell the ocean. He realized Jack had dumped his bag in the back seat and was holding the door for him. He got in.

"Why don't I spend more time in the tropics? I love the tropics."

"We call it workaholism, Daniel." Jack's voice was dry and amused. He started the car, put it in gear, and drove. Daniel almost regretted the plush breeze of air conditioning. They didn't have far to go. The hotel that was Jack's destination was a nondescript highrise, one of dozens lining the beach, as close to the ocean as possible. The parking garage was dark, the elevator was empty, and when Daniel had followed Jack into their room, washed his face and pissed and kicked his shoes off, he took a long breath and went out into the main room and tried to arrive in the moment. The balcony door was open onto a small cement space, a hidden niche between two solid walls.

Daniel stepped out and found Jack. He was barefoot, too, just standing there, a beer in his hand. There was an iced coffee on the wide railing at his elbow. Daniel smiled, but at the same time, a lump rose in his throat. Jack looked out at the ocean.

Daniel shook his head, tried to shake off the tumble of emotions. He moved to stand beside Jack and sipped at his coffee. The breakers came in, steady and relentless, and they watched them for a while. The sound was faint and comforting up here, twenty stories above the sand. The beach was empty.

Jack said quietly, "You haven't asked me what we're doing here."

"No," Daniel said, setting his glass on the railing again, turning to Jack. His heart was pounding. That feeling was back, trilling along his legs, coiling in his groin.

Jack regarded him. He'd left his sunglasses in the room, and his eyes were soft. He looked rested, content. The breeze stirred his hair and lifted the collar of his shirt. Daniel found he was smiling.

Jack said, "Did I wait too long?"

"For what?"

"This," Jack said, pinning him with his glance, and he slowly stepped forward and cupped Daniel's face in his hands and kissed him.

Daniel inhaled sharply, and welcomed the kiss with everything he had. He leaned in, he put his hands over Jack's, and closed his eyes.

When he could breathe, he said, "No; I don't think so."

"Oh, good," Jack said, and kissed him again.


	2. Chapter 2

Daniel had never gotten used to how fast things happened in Jack's world, the brevity of the duration between decision and action, between plan and execution. Before he'd been caught up in the Stargate program, he'd been used to the world of academic and field archaeology, where things rarely happened quickly because the subject of the happenings were people who were already dead -- thousands of years dead.

So now, lying in bed, propped up on one elbow, in the off-the-rack luxury of a Cancun high rise, he felt that, as Eliot had once explained, he had had the experience and missed the meaning. The meaning had zipped right by him while he hung there like a scarecrow, trying to take in what the fuck had just happened.

He lay there on the sweaty sheets and watched Jack doze beside him. The long tropical twilight was kind to Jack's face, smoothing away lines, losing itself in the long lashes lying black and thick against his cheek, highlighting a silvery sparkle in hair too short to rumple (though their strip-and-fall into one of the two big beds, and the hasty, starved sex that had followed, certainly would have been sufficient for rumpling). Daniel scuffed at his own hair. He felt rumpled, too, even if his hair was also too short now to show it. He, and the messy bed, smelled of sex and salt, though the salt might have been as much ocean breeze as sweat.

So little of what people really were ever showed on the outside, he mused, still watching Jack, letting his gaze travel along the grainy skin of Jack's throat, smiling a little at the red mark he'd left, unintentionally biting down as he'd knifed into his climax under Jack's sure and insistent touch. Jack's chest rose and fell as he breathed. He still had a damp hand curled across Daniel's thigh. He looked relaxed, trusting, content, it seemed, because of Daniel's presence and, Daniel assumed, because of the double-locked doors. Despite the quick, unmistakable rush and distraction of his arousal, after their kiss on the balcony Jack had tarried the second it had taken to lock the sliding door before he toppled them both into bed. Daniel knew Jack rarely, if ever, locked his house in the Springs. Until now, had he nothing to hide? To lock away?

So fast, too fast, this fall into a new ... something ... with Jack. Fast as the orgasm he'd just enjoyed, wishing it could last longer even as it consumed him, wishing he could have held out, but it had been too long for him, and Jack was too good, too overwhelming. His touch, as Daniel had always suspected it would, had pushed him over the edge and into coming with a rapidity that was embarrassingly teenage.

He watched Jack, and thought about touching him. But touching him would probably wake him up, and Daniel wanted a little more time to try to absorb this. To start to believe in it. Besides, it seemed right to let Jack sleep. To let him rest, for once.

Jack carried the weight they all carried, plus more. It was good to see him forget all that, for a while. Daniel smiled at himself. When had he gotten so mushy? Jack would laugh at him if he knew, laugh at the very thought. Or, would he? Daniel found he wasn't so sure, now, what Jack would say to Daniel's unexpected, hesitant tenderness.

He let the contemplation ebb, and was left with a sense of insistent affection, and the need to touch. So, still smiling, he raised his hand and cupped the firm line of Jack's jawbone, curling his fingers until he felt the pulse there. Jack's eyes opened and Daniel started to pull back. Perhaps that was too vulnerable a place to start. It would arouse Jack's defensive instincts. But Jack didn't flinch away. The sleep scattered from his face, along with the slight frown, and before Daniel could remove his hand (slow, slow, too slow), Jack's hand covered it. And Jack smiled. Seeing that made Daniel go all soft in the center, like a melting marshmallow -- that delighted, tentative smile. Daniel wanted to say something. They held each other's gaze, and Daniel felt the stirring of words, but he didn't know where to start.

_Thank you._

I love you.

What now?

What are you feeling?

How did this happen?

How can you do this?

How can I?

Business as usual; Jack was way ahead of him. He knew what to say, and he said it, emphatically: "Shower."

And Jack sat up, and just like that was vertical and out of bed, and pulling at Daniel's hand, a firm grip, pulling him along to the bath, which was a big room, tiled floor to ceiling in warm terra cotta. The shower enclosure was matchingly huge. Daniel smiled as Jack swung open the heavy glass door and turned on the jets. The sybaritic shower was just too much, too over the top. Jack had picked the hotel, picked the room, hoping this would happen with Daniel. Expecting that it would.

_Yeah, you knew. You knew I'd be this easy._

Daniel's smile turned into a gulp as Jack, satisfied with the water temperature, turned to him, head to one side, invitation and peace in those deep brown eyes.

_Too much, too fast._

Daniel pulled the door shut behind him, and stepped into Jack's arms. He closed his eyes against the spray and leaned, just feeling the body pressed against his, still not quite believing. But he was getting there. He was catching up. He tightened his arms. Jack was so calm. He was breathing deeply, enjoying the damp air, it seemed. Every now and then he would exhale harder, like a sigh. He reached without moving away, and in a moment Daniel felt soapy warmth stroking along his back. He squeezed his eyes shut and let it happen. Jack washing his back, slow and careful, reaching awkwardly, down and down, along his buttocks, down his thighs. Too tender. Too surprising. Jack's face slid a little against his shoulder and Daniel felt him smile, then bite his lip. His hands came back up, pushed along Daniel's cheeks again, sliding deeper. Daniel clutched at Jack's shoulders.

"This all right?" Jack rumbled, soft as distant thunder.

"Oh, God, yes," Daniel said, and he shifted his weight and freed his cock, filling again, from where he'd pressed it against Jack's hip.

"Good," Jack said, and he teased a bit, stroking along the cleft, acquainting his fingers with Daniel's ass, but he didn't press in and he didn't really linger. The intimate attention reignited Daniel's arousal more quickly than he'd thought possible. He took firmer hold of Jack's wet shoulders and stepped back half a pace as one of Jack's hands came up, smoothing over his hip bone, the other reaching for more soap. Daniel, eyes still closed, tilted his head and kissed Jack, Jack's hands moving all the while, washing him -- armpits, collarbones, sweeping down his chest. They were leaning in, giving Jack's hands space to move between them.

"Been a while," Daniel said between kisses, breathless.

"I can see that," Jack returned, and Daniel had to open his eyes and look into Jack's, see what was going on there, because Jack's soapy grip was all over his dick now, bringing him to fully hard, again. He swallowed and tried not to let his eyes roll back in his head. Jack was intent, his gaze switching from Daniel's eyes to his mouth, then down to his dick and back up again.

Daniel licked his lips and blinked. Round two was going to be happening fairly fast. He didn't think he wanted it in the shower, though. He found his balance and reached for the soap. His turn to wash Jack. Jack smiled, droplets clinging to his lashes. He went with the program, silent acquiescence, letting go of Daniel's dick and leaning on his shoulders. Daniel went a little faster than Jack had, because he was distracted by the burn of his own arousal. He worked on the sweatiest places -- armpits, groin, neck. Then he pressed his cheek to Jack's and soaped up his dick -- Jack wasn't getting hard again as quickly as Daniel -- and bent his knees a bit to carry a soapy palm between Jack's legs, past the warm squish of his balls, and on back, coming at his ass from the opposite direction Jack had approached his. Jack rumbled again, low in his throat, and braced a hand on the tile behind him and widened his stance. Daniel sucked warm water from his shoulder, then licked, tasting clean skin, missing the salty sweat of earlier.

Daniel said, "And this would be all right with you, too, then."

"Oh, yeah. About that..." Jack trailed off, because Daniel, encouraged, was lingering over this bit of washing longer than Jack had for him, pressing and circling with his two middle fingers, opening the slick hole just a little. Jack cupped the side of Daniel's neck and leaned his head on Daniel's and groaned. Daniel smiled, and felt himself harden even more. He let go, and then pulled on Jack's arms to move him a step forward so that the water could course down his back. Jack was looking at him with narrowed eyes and parted lips. His face was flushed, from the heat of the water and from the attention, Daniel flattered himself. Jack caressed his neck, then moved a thumb to his lips.

"I'm not gonna be hard again for a while, I'm afraid."

Daniel shrugged. He smoothed his hands over Jack's shoulders, splashing away soap. Jack ducked his head and shifted under the water to finish rinsing, still breathing hard. Daniel watched him move his hands over his own body, skimming away the foam, the ordinariness of it clutching at Daniel's heart. When he was done, Jack wiped his face again, opened his eyes and quirked a corner of his mouth, then moved around Daniel, holding out a hand in an "after you" gesture. Daniel stepped under the water and closed his eyes. He felt a splash of cold air, and heard the door snap closed. It was suddenly very lonely in the big, bright tiled space. Daniel rinsed quickly, eager to be near Jack again.

He emerged from the steamy bath, scrubbing himself dry, to find Jack sitting on the edge of their bed, among the rumpled sheets, the blanket and spread still pushed to the foot where they'd left them earlier, his damp towel heaped beside him. There was a tube and a box on the nightstand that hadn't been there before. Jack caught his eye, raised his eyebrows, and displayed a single, fresh condom package.

_Yeah, you so planned every bit of this._ It made Daniel smile again.

Jack said quietly, "Do we need one of these?"

Daniel shook his head. His towel slipped from his left hand, and his thoughts slipped away, too, as his right hand curled automatically around his own erection, because Jack tucked the square of foil back into the box, held Daniel's glance for a moment, and rolled to his stomach on the bed, stretching out his legs, bending one knee a little, sliding both hands under the thick white pillow.

"God," Daniel blurted, taking a shaky step toward him. Jack was gorgeous, and so vulnerable looking, so unlike how Daniel was used to thinking of him. Jack snickered, which was just what Daniel needed to break his vapor lock and get him moving in the right direction. He let go of his dick, shivered a little as he realized how cool the room was compared the steamy shower, and climbed on the foot of the bed, between Jack's legs. He stroked his back as he reached over him for the tube, making Jack squirm a little, up into his hand. Daniel cleared his throat.

"You look ... amazing," he said, and Jack snickered at him again.

"Your standards are slipping, or it has been a really long time for you," he answered, getting up on his elbows a bit, spreading his legs further, an invitation that made Daniel excited enough to almost drop the tube on the bed. Jack sounded a little breathless. Daniel glopped more of the lube into his hand than he intended. He felt light-headed.

He reached for Jack, his free hand on the back of a warm thigh, and started rubbing, small circular pushes, and Jack pushed back into them a little, and Daniel swallowed hard. When his fingers pushed into Jack's body, Jack gasped, but what he said was, "Be gentle, kind sir," and that made Daniel laugh outright.

Amazement faded into amusement, letting his arousal burn hotter, equal parts affection and lust. Daniel knelt forward and set about the gentle, escalating stroking he figured Jack would need. Jack was breathing faster, a good sign, and he was flushing gently, a lovely mottling of his shoulders and the clean lines of his spine. Daniel shook his head. Jack _was_ gorgeous, self-deprecating humor or no.

Daniel leaned forward a little more. Getting good now, getting close to ready. He was a little hypnotized by the slow, rhythmic pull of his fingers in Jack's body -- _Jack's body_ \-- as it was opening like this, for him.

"Wish I could see your face," he murmured. "See your dick."

"Not much to see yet," Jack said, his voice strained, but the words came clearly, at a conversational pace. He was rocking his hips a little, some of his weight on his bent knee. Daniel pressed a kiss to his back. "Told you I wouldn't be hard for a while. Probably won't come from this either, but, God, it's good."

Daniel moaned, his lips against Jack's back, and slowly pulled his hand away. He found the lube with shaking hands, spread some more on them both, and slowly, slowly, fit himself against Jack and pushed.

"Tell me," Daniel said.

"Don't stop."

Too much, _too much, too fast,_ again, swept away, a blur of meaningless experience, pure sensation. A tiny and isolated part of his mind was still vaguely logging, a shrinking island of logic in a carnal sea. It was cataloguing, taking note of when to hold up, when to wait, of exactly when the ecstatic tightness eased to enveloping, clinging heat. But most of Daniel's psyche was sinking helplessly into the feelings -- heat and squeezing, and intense pleasure rippling along his dick, twisting through his balls and his ass, grabbing at his muscles, catching in his chest. Jack pushed against him, harder, urging, and bent his other knee, taking Daniel deeper even as Jack rocked him back. They moved, the geometry changing as Jack pushed, both getting up on their knees. Daniel, perfectly balanced now, held on hard to Jack's hips and watched himself disappear into Jack's body. He stroked slowly, then faster, leaning back a little. He bit his lip. He wanted to scream, but he was silent.

_So good, you're so good. _

Jack...

There was a sheen of sweat on Jack's back, and his head dropped between his elbows, onto the pillow, and he was silent, too, rocking insistently into Daniel's thrusts, pushing harder, escalating the rhythm. Daniel squeezed his eyes shut and gave up. It might look like he was running this, orchestrating it, but here, too, he was simply following Jack's lead.

Blinding pleasure, ramping up faster and steeper than Daniel would have thought possible.

A wordless call for a faster pace: The slap of skin, a murmured growl from Jack, and so Daniel moved faster. He was drawn, pulled, swept upward, forward, into Jack, and when he came he was calling Jack's name, the drawn-out vowel like a cry. He sagged, still balanced on his knees, pressed against Jack's back, and his hands slipped along Jack's hips and up his ribs. Jack eased back and up, coming upright, sinking into Daniel's lap, bringing Daniel's arms around his middle and resting there. They were silent, just breathing, for long moments.

"Okay, you've been holding out on me so you could practice, right?" Jack said, between shaky gulps of air, making Daniel laugh again, and Jack laughed, too, squeezing, and Daniel winced as he slipped free. He'd come so hard he was sore inside. He slid to the sheets, wiping his sweaty forehead, lying on his side and bringing Jack with him, back still pressed to Daniel's chest.

"My God. Jack. It's just. I can hardly believe it."

"Believe it, Danny. Believe it."

They lay there, cooling, just touching. Daniel closed his eyes. Soon there'd be another shower, and soon, perhaps, his brain would catch up to all this and let him accept it. Jack. Letting him in. Opening for him. He tightened his arms and Jack did, too.

There were so many things he wanted to do, now, so many ways he wanted to touch, to taste. Jack had brought him here, had wanted this, had wanted Daniel inside him.

_So much I still don't know about you,_ Daniel marveled. _How long has it been for you; since you were with someone? How long since it was someone you cared about? _

Do you always bottom? Are there ghosts you're laying to rest by letting me top? Sex this way -- is it something you wanted for yourself, or something you thought I wanted?

Will you ever tell me? Will I ever ask?

But, he was used to having more questions than answers. Lulled by Jack's breathing and Jack's hands, he dozed again.

~~~

He woke to the sound of the shower, and he lay there until the water shut off, and he heard what had to be shaving -- intermittent spattering of water in the sink, and the tap of a razor against the bowl. Daniel got up and found his glasses, pulled the messy sheets from the bed and bundled them into a corner, and passed behind Jack, pressing his lips to Jack's shoulder, to take a fast shower of his own.

When he came out, drying his hair with a towel, Jack was dressed in the island casual of earlier -- baggy shorts and a white short-sleeved shirt and leather sandals. It was an absolutely alien look for him, but Daniel found he liked it. Jack was sitting in one of the deep, curved chairs, bending down to tighten a strap at his ankle.

"By my clock, it's dinner time," Jack announced, sitting up and watching as Daniel dug in his bag for clean clothes, including, hopefully, a pair of shorts.

When Daniel turned, Jack was right there, silently coming up behind him, and Daniel dropped his clothes to give the kiss Jack was offering him his full attention. Just as on the balcony, hours earlier, the kiss was a surprise, a revelation, an oasis. After a bit, Jack pulled away and smiled, and sat back down in the chair to watch Daniel dress. Daniel was suddenly extremely hungry, and extremely thirsty. He dressed quickly, letting himself revel in Jack's gaze.

The little dumpy restaurant Jack drove to was off the beaten track, obviously a locals place and not a tourist place.

Daniel ran a hand along the worn wooden handrail of the steps that led up to the door. He felt his old and familiar comfort of exploration and discovery, the odd sense he always had of being most at home amid the unfamiliar. He'd never been in this part of Mexico before, but, as he followed Jack to their table, the sounds and the smells that slipped around him carried a sense of recognition. He sat down, and listened to Jack order beers and confirm that they would also be ordering dinner. The soothing cadence of the Spanish was like a favorite song, lilting and restful. He could almost taste it -- the culture and the history that came with the lexicon.

He watched the waiter's back. He felt this was a date, that Jack was taking him out. He felt he should thank Jack, for the date, the trip, for everything, but he couldn't help wondering about the timing of it all. The waiter brought them menus, and beer in bottles, and Jack thanked him formally. Jack's eyes seemed darker than ever. The _cerveza_ was cold and crisp, oddly right for the occasion.

Daniel said, "_Todo esta de lo mas bien. Gracias. El viaje, todo. Pero..."_

Jack shook his head, rolled his eyes, and answered in English. "But why now, you want to know?"

Daniel laughed and gripped his beer bottle, and thumped it on the table a couple of times. It made the liquid inside foam up and bubble, and Daniel watched it, enjoying it as a metaphor for how he felt. He was -- sitting here, soaking up the night, the lights, the smells -- now able to label his mood. It was unbelievable, how happy he was. Unbelievable and more than a little scary. He looked up without moving his head, and met Jack's eyes over his glasses. Jack was grinning.

Jack reached out and, with one careful finger, pushed Daniel's glasses back into place. Daniel sat a little straighter, trying to ignore the shiver of new arousal that ran up the backs of his legs. He felt a little embarrassed at what Jack could do, was doing, to him. But that was silly. He wanted this, and there was no reason not to enjoy it. He shoved away the embarrassed feeling, and concentrated on looking at Jack.

Jack continued, his smile fading, but still there, giving his words a flirtatious edge. "You didn't even realize you were still speaking Spanish, did you." Jack shook his head and raised his bottle and drank. He stared at Daniel, seeming to lose his place, and Daniel marveled again that this was happening. He'd know for years how much he had wanted it, but to find, in this swept-away-to-Oz way, that Jack wanted it, too....

He found he could answer, picking up Jack's casual, flirty tone even though he knew his heart was in his eyes. "Well, you just go with it. After this many years, you can shift gears pretty easily. Just start thinking and not translating. Not in all languages, of course. Arabic's still the easiest for me, and, um, Abydonian, of course." Daniel looked down, all words leaving him for a moment. When he looked up, Jack was staring at him, sympathy and chagrin plain on his face.

"Sorry," Jack said.

"No, you know, it's okay. Because--" Daniel's smile flashed and vanished. "Because it is."

Jack nodded and looked down again. Daniel just waited. Jack set his beer aside and folded his hands on the table and leaned over them, toward Daniel. "When you got stranded in the middle of Soren's holy war, I wasn't happy. It made me feel old, helpless, it made me feel like I'm getting way too old for this shit, all that stuff that I really hate feeling." Jack looked aside and shook his head.

Daniel grinned. "So I'm your midlife crisis."

Jack's face fell. _Wrong thing to say._ "Yeah, that's it. That's it exactly." He drained his bottle and thumped it on the table. He caught the waiter's eye and silently, imperiously signed for two more Coronas.

Daniel leaned back in his chair and thought back to how Jack had looked, sitting in his office a few days before, when he thought Daniel had brought secrets back with him from the Rand Protectorate, secrets that might drive them further apart than Daniel feared they had already been driven. Jack had been wrong, but the fact that they could misunderstand each other so easily was what clutched at Daniel's heart. It had worried him, the worry outlasting his irritation that Jack seemed to think Daniel would keep secrets, would ever need to keep secrets, or keep anything, from Jack. What had become of their mutual trust? And now Jack was misunderstanding him again; perhaps willfully. But he didn't want Jack to think he was taking this lightly. Jack always teased, yet Daniel had learned it was a form of self-defense, and one he didn't appreciate Daniel adopting.

"I'm sorry," Daniel said. "I feel like I'm all unbalanced, out of sync.... I was gone so long this time, and this is so strange. I don't feel like I know how to act anymore. I'm on eggshells, you know?"

Jack nodded. "I know. But you know I don't bite. Much." The grin was back, and the flirty glance, and the waiter came with the new beer, and Jack switched back to Spanish to order their dinner. _Well. Salvaged that... _

During the meal, Daniel watched Jack so intently that he barely knew what he was eating. He felt, again, deeply, the disconnect between what was now between them and what he'd always thought had been going on. The way he'd always conceptualized their relationship, how he'd assumed Jack felt about him... Love, yes, always; hate, sometimes. But lust? Attraction? He had so many questions. And it had not escaped him that Jack had ducked the one he'd actually asked. Eight years of working so closely together, living in each others' hip pockets, eight years of death and reunion and peril, and there was still so much he didn't know. He watched Jack attack his meal, and thought about how fast his moods could change.

He focused, realized their plates were empty and that Jack was prattling on about how Cancun had changed from his memories of it, how it was a manufactured city, a city with no history and no soul. Daniel tuned in, thought about Tulum, gathered his thoughts to add that to the conversation: Tulum and its ruins and the Mayan history that lay just a few short miles from the coast, but he hesitated at lecturing, decided Jack, being contrary, was trying to draw him into a conversation about history, but that probably Jack was simply trying to be polite without a real interest. They didn't have to talk about the place. Why were they talking about the place? Daniel abruptly shut the Mayan file, and slammed the file cabinet drawer in his head labeled, "Mexico, Pre-Columbian," back into place, raising a mental cloud of dust, and he also shoved aside the related lecture he always thought of, about what an incredibly stupid thing it was to date Central America's history in terms of Columbus!

He drew a breath and watched Jack wind down, letting the words puff around him like a breeze, not really paying attention, watching and noticing how Jack was a little nervous, but not really, not at the core of him. Jack was relaxed. Jack was... Daniel finally realized what he was seeing. Jack was actually _happy_, his momentary snit over Daniel's poor choice of words earlier apparently forgotten. Jack was happy. It made the backs of Daniel's eyes sting. There was a pause, and Jack, apparently out of memories of Cancun to recount, met Daniel's eyes.

"I had no idea, you know," Daniel said. He knew it was a non sequitur, just as he knew Jack would take it up without missing a beat. This was what they were really talking about.

"You know, I find that hard to believe," Jack said. He waved, catching the waiter's eye, signed the air with an imaginary pen and mouthed "_Por favor, la cuenta."_ He met Daniel's eyes again. "I always thought you knew exactly how I felt about you. And thus, I assumed you knew what we were up against, with the military rules and all."

Daniel stirred in his chair and pushed his glasses up. "No, well, as usual, you give me too much credit."

Jack watched him, and Daniel could feel the wheels turning in there, feel Jack casting back over their history, and he wondered where Jack would dip into it with words. There was a lot there that Daniel preferred not to relive, and he suspected it was the same for Jack. Some events were so horrible as to bear, or require, no gloss of interpretation. Some events were meaningless in their enormous fateful cruelty. Daniel found he was holding his breath.

What Jack said was, "After we found you and brought you home, I kept waiting for you to meet someone, to find someone new. Get married again. Maybe leave again entirely."

Daniel frowned, and waited. The year after the Ascended had sent him back had been an ... odd one. To say the least. Jack was contemplating his empty plate and his plastic placemat. Daniel was fairly certain Jack would have added something else onto that statement, but the waiter chose that moment to reappear with the check. Daniel sat there, holding the moment, until the waiter had accepted Jack's cash with expansive thanks, and bowed himself away. But Jack's train of thought was broken. He fiddled with his remaining silverware, then finished his beer, looking at Daniel sidelong.

Daniel leaned forward. For that fractured thought of Jack's, for what he thought Jack was asking behind the words, he had an answer. He even, for once, had reassurance. "But where would I go? Who else could I meet, or want to meet? Come on, Jack. You know it's the team that's my home now." He waited until Jack looked up at him again, his expression carefully neutral. Daniel lowered his voice even more. "_You're_ my home."

Something softened in Jack's face, and he tapped the table smartly with a finger and got up, and swept an arm toward the door. Daniel, a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth, preceded him. Manners; Jack always could pull out the lovely manners, and it made Daniel definitely feel like he was on a date, and it made him feel very foolish, at one and the same time. He had no idea how romance stuff worked between guys. How it worked, would work, for the two of them to be ... dating. If this was dating. His previous experiences with men, years back now (and, come to think of it, in a different body, and that thought made him wince), had in no way resembled dating, or even friendship. But, he, apparently, was going to be finding out what that was like, within certain constraints, of course. He had always suspected that Jack in a relationship -- something he'd never seen, even from a distance -- could be very romantic. The thought made his heart turn over. Another mystery. Another set of questions.

When they were on the street, walking leisurely through the thick night, heading down toward Jack's rental car, their hands in pockets, elbows occasionally brushing, Daniel said, "You ducked the question, you know."

Jack quoted, smiling sidelong at Daniel, "_¿Que quieres saber - porque ahora?"_

Why now? He walked along a few paces, thinking. He switched back to English. "It was mostly because of you being gone so long with Kane, and me getting to thinking, 'Fuck it.' You know?" Daniel nodded, connecting the dots. "Plus, you know, I'm The Man now. Shouldn't I be able to do whatever I want, finally? Haven't I finally earned that?"

He said it lightly, harking back to the impromptu summit the team had had in Daniel's office after Jack had announced his promotion, months ago now. But Daniel heard the truth in the words.

_Not your midlife crisis, then, but part of your reward, what you deserve.... Or maybe,_ he thought, chagrined at his disloyal jealousy, thinking of Sam, _your consolation prize._

Again, and forever, the wrong thing to say, should he say it out loud. Daniel bit his lip and thought about how easily Jack was being wounded tonight. He wasn't used to thinking of Jack as the least bit vulnerable. Again, he felt, he'd been gone way too long, on that last mission. He had lost his touch with Jack. He shivered in the warm night. They reached the car, and he got in and leaned back and closed his eyes.

Lost his touch. Yet. He had kissed Jack, showered with him, snuggled him, fucked him. Today. This afternoon. In a tourist hotel. In Cancun.

Jack had let him in, emotionally, long years ago. That wasn't news. So. This was just the final step. Experience and meaning, in sync at last. Jack let him in, completely, now. So he had to tread carefully, mindfully, on this new territory, like a guest. Had he lost the knack of that, too?

He opened his eyes and looked around at the shabby streets, watching as they abruptly changed to well-lit boulevard, lined with palms and concrete. No, in point of fact, Daniel knew all about being a guest. A guest in other cultures, other lands, and on other planets. Truly, he believed, it was actually one of his best things. The thought gave him hope and brought a smile to his lips again.

The air conditioning finally began to cut through the thick humidity, but they were already more than halfway to the hotel. Jack drove with one hand on the wheel and one hand on Daniel's knee. Daniel laid his arm across the back of the seat to cup Jack's nape.

Back on their balcony, they shared a beer, not talking, but listening to the ocean and enjoying the cooling breeze.

Daniel watched Jack, and noticed how Jack was watching him. He cast his mind back over the events of the afternoon, remembering how Jack looked naked, and the amazement of being invited to really look, not steal reluctant glances, and remembering Jack's face as he grimaced and gasped and came in Daniel's hand. How strange and almost frightening it felt, still, to kiss him. That was the strangest thing of all, really. Stranger than the sex. And then, Daniel had been inside him, had made love to him. He closed his eyes for a moment, hearing the surf, feeling the breeze on his face.

"How long do we have?" Daniel said, and drained the beer. The ocean sounded close in the dark. It was a lovely sound, one Daniel missed more than he'd realized.

"I have two more days here. You're going back tomorrow."

"Well, then. I'd better turn in early." Daniel smiled. He turned and went in the room, the cold air shocking. He checked that the hall door was locked (overkill; of course it was -- Jack had followed him in from the car, after all) and adjusted the thermostat to an average bearable for what he knew of their preferences. Jack would gladly keep it this cold; Daniel was freezing already.

He went slowly to the sink and brushed his teeth, staring at his reflection and seeing a stranger. So much history, so many years of quashing his attraction, hoping he wasn't being too obvious, of trying his best not to react when Sam had one of her "hopeless romance" phases. He had tried hard to focus on work, on friendship, on anything besides the fact that, increasingly, if he were honest, working with Jack, staying near him, was his chief motivation for pushing ahead through their endless run-in's with the Trust and with the cornered, snappish Goa'uld.

Since he'd come back to the physical plane, Daniel had learned that he didn't do well without a clear purpose. Since he'd come back, he had lacked the intensity of mission that he'd had before, when he was searching for Sha're and then for Shifu. But he was coming to understand that maybe that lack could be a good thing. Because, since his descending he'd also lacked the despair he had felt before the Kelowna mission. And _that_ was definitely good.

He wiped his mouth, put aside the towel, and, watching himself deliberately, stripped there, in front of the bright mirror, looking at his own, reconstructed body, trying to be objective. He shook his head. He didn't know what Jack saw in him, but at this point, he wasn't going to argue.

He caught sight of Jack in the mirror, and he turned and leaned back against the counter ledge, smiling, until Jack was right before him, close enough to hug. His eyes were dark and intent again. Daniel leaned in.

_"Pues, manaña...."_ he said against Jack's lips. _"Nos vamos a entretener la noche entera." _

("Tomorrow, huh? Then we'll be getting down to business, all night long.")


End file.
